


Head Start

by chinesebakery



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Academy Era, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Oral Sex, Porn with paper-thin plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-14 23:46:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10546400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chinesebakery/pseuds/chinesebakery
Summary: When Jemma's meathead ex-boyfriend callously alleges she's frigid, Fitz and Simmons team up to prove him wrong.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [leopoldjamesfitz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leopoldjamesfitz/gifts).



> Written for mysticalmemories based on [this picture prompt](http://lizziehenstridges.tumblr.com/post/159116063110) (NSFW).  
> Thanks to RaptorLindsay for beta-reading, and to Not-the-stupid-cat-again for helping me "plot" this (and making me keep the title).

Sitting cross-legged on Fitz's bed with textbooks and notes scattered between them, Jemma found her attention continuously wandering back to the very topic she was trying to ignore.

She knew she shouldn't overthink it. Colin had been upset and lashed out, trying to get under her skin anyway he could — well, mission accomplished. In every other area of her life, she was fairly self-confident, but she was only now, at age eighteen, starting to enjoy a normal social and dating life with people her own age, and there was no denying things hadn't been going quite as well as she'd hoped.  What Colin had told her was almost certainly wrong but… what if it wasn't?

"Okay, spill," Fitz demanded abruptly, clicking his pen on and off before dropping it on the bed beside him. "What's going on?"

"What are you talking about?" Jemma replied without glancing away from her textbook.

"You've been reading that same page for ten minutes. You're _distracted_ ," he said accusingly, pointing his finger at her. "You're never distracted. What is it?"

"Nothing," she shrugged. Fitz shot her an impatient look, raising an eyebrow expectantly, and she slammed her book shut and clutched it to her chest, holding it like a shield. "Oh, alright," she sighed. "It really _is_ nothing. Nothing important, anyway. I broke up with Colin this morning."

 _"Finally,"_ Fitz said, holding up a hand for her to high five.

Knowing how he held Colin (and all her ex-boyfriends, really) in utter contempt, she complied with a mildly exasperated eye-roll. His jovial attitude towards her romantic misfortune was hardly unusual, and she'd long ago given up on taking offense.

"Christ, he was the worst yet," he said happily. "Why didn't you tell me? We should be celebrating! I would have picked up cupcakes, or those weird organic things you like so much."

"Yeah, no, it's just—" Jemma glanced away, wringing her hands nervously. "He, um… he said something."

Fitz sat up straighter, all hints of amusement instantly falling from his face. "What did he say?" he clipped, looking preemptively irate on her behalf.

She huffed a sigh, wrapping a hand around her throat. "He said… honestly, it's so stupid. But he said I'm… _frigid_ ," she said, whispering the last word.

Fitz gaped at her in frozen horror before he squealed, "You're… what?"

 _"Frigid!"_ she hissed, her shoulders slumping under the weight of her embarrassment. "Meaning I can't achieve orgasm during sexual intercou—"

"I know what it means, Simmons!" he shrieked, accidentally knocking a stack of flashcards off the bed. She risked a glance at him then and sure enough, he was flushed scarlet up to his hairline.

"I shouldn't have brought it up," she said quickly, opening her book at a random page to avoid his bewildered stare. "Frankly it's an absolutely archaic turn of phrase anyway… we can just get back to studying, forget I said anything—"

"No, no, you don't have to—if it's bothering you," Fitz insisted, forcing an encouraging smile. "We're best friends, we should be able to talk about… whatever. I mean, all that stuff, it's just biology, right?"

"Well, I guess…" She shot him a dubious look from beneath her lashes. "Are you sure?"

"Yep," he said with a hesitant smile, too fast for it to sound even remotely sincere. "Yeah, I'm totally sure."

"Okay, then," she said, releasing a shaky breath. She tried to relax her posture, but her entire body felt stiff and uncomfortably warm.

"Right. Okay. So I guess the first thing you should ask yourself is — how is it going when you…" Fitz hid his crimson face in his hands for a moment, rubbing his eyes vigorously. "I mean — how are things when… when you're on your own and you… _you know_."

Oh God. _It's biology_ , she reminded herself. _Just biology_."I guess—it's fine," she said in a worryingly high-pitched voice. "Everything seems… functionally adequate."

"Adequate. Good, that's—good," Fitz croaked.

It was on the tip of her tongue to return the question, to ask him whether everything went satisfactorily when he was having a wank himself. Instead, she braced herself and continued.

"But, um… I've never—when I'm with someone, I—it just doesn't… happen."

"Right." Fitz gulped, his fingers moving restlessly over his knees. "Not even during…" He fixed his gaze on the ceiling, looking pained. "Erm… oral?"

"I… I don't know," she admitted. It felt as if her blush had spread all the way down to the tip of her toes. "I've never…"

Jemma felt her mouth go dry. Desperate for something to do with her hands, she started gathering her notes on electromagnetic radiation. It was clear they wouldn't get any more studying done before their next lecture. "I've never done that. It. Had it done to me, I mean. I _have_ done the other… thing. To someone." _Dear God, just stop talking._ She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to will the ground to open and swallow her whole.

"Oh." He mulled that over for a moment before narrowing his eyes incredulously. _"Never?"_

"Why, are you volunteering?" she snapped, feeling irrationally irritated. Was she really _that_ far behind the curve? Had Fitz ever done… _that_ to someone? She knew he'd had a few hook-ups in the past year, but as a rule, she never asked him about it. It felt _weird_ , thinking about him with a girl.

Only then did Jemma realize what she'd just said, out loud, to her best friend. She slapped her palm over her mouth, stifling a strangled sound of shock as her mind desperately scrambled for a deflection.

"If you want—I could—" she heard him reply softly, his voice hoarse and breathless.

"No!" she gasped before they started talking over each other. "Fitz, I was only—"

"— best way to find out—"

"— swear I didn't mean—"

"— can put it to rest—"

"— never ask you to—"

"— _best friend_."

"— best friend!" she exclaimed at the same time, and when she met his gaze, her heart jolted against the wall of her ribcage.

Fitz's chest was rising and falling rapidly, his face flushed an impossible shade of carmine, and he was looking at her as if—

For a moment, she couldn't stop herself from imagining his mop of curls tickling the inside of her thighs, his breath hitting her most intimate place just before his tongue licked a slippery trail along her core. The mental picture left her struggling for breath.

"I guess that could be… helpful?" she heard herself say through a haze of sudden, striking lust.

He gave her a sharp nod then, his eyes darker and shinier than their usual clear blue. "Tonight," he muttered. "Your dorm. Cathy will be out, yeah?" It was a fairly safe bet — Jemma's roommate was a famous Boiler Room mainstay.

"Probably," she replied, her voice so high it sounded entirely foreign.

Fitz nodded again, self-consciously rubbing at the back of his neck. Quiet settled around them, but for the first time in forever, it wasn't their usual companionable silence — it was a void, a gaping chasm of stillness that stretched uncomfortably between them.. Soon, Jemma felt flutter of worry invade her stomach.

"Fitz." She grabbed his hand, his warm palm anchoring her. "It can't change anything between us."

"I know," he said with soft eyes and a bashful smile. The press of his hand in hers was meant to be reassuring, she knew, but instead it pulled at her heartstrings in an unfamiliar, somewhat troubling manner.

"Tonight, then," she said, reluctantly releasing his hand and starting to collect her things. Their gap period was almost over. It was going to be a long afternoon.


	2. Chapter 2

Jemma would have been hard pressed to tell anyone what Pr. Vaughn's lecture was about. Her notes were nothing but disjointed words and random snippets of sentences that formed an unintelligible, unusable mess. She'd even doodled in the margins, for God's sake.

She glanced at Fitz's laptop, hoping against all hope that for once in his life he was making an actual effort to take notes instead on relying solely on hers. Instead she found him reading something that looked suspiciously like an online forum. It was a lost cause, then. She would have to swallow her pride and ask to copy someone else’s notes — and endure no small amount of teasing over her descent into irresponsibility, no doubt.

She could hardly help it. Her mind kept drifting back to Fitz's… _proposal_. It wasn't that she'd never wanted to try… _that_ — it just hadn't happened. While she had no problem asserting demands and expectations in the lab, doing so in the bedroom didn't come as easily to her, and so when no one had offered, she hadn't dared to ask. But now…

She turned her head slightly so she could get a look at Fitz's face — to gauge his state of mind, _not_ to think dirty thoughts about the curve of his mouth — only to catch him staring right back at her. They both swiftly turned away, and Jemma felt her face grow red and hot.

***

Fitz was so preoccupied that he didn't even feel like having a snack after Vaughn's never ending blur of a lecture, which was unprecedented. He'd spent the entire period reading conflicting cunnilingus tips on the internet, and now his head was swimming. Suction or no suction? Lateral or vertical? And what the hell was 'commissure'?

A little while later, when his roommate asked if he had plans for the evening, Fitz barked out a choked laugh because _bloody hell_ , did he have plans. Plans that included going down on his best friend until he got her off and proved that tosser Colin wrong — because clearly, the fabric of reality had been torn apart and haphazardly stitched back together.

Well, he was going to _try_ getting her off. What if he didn't succeed? Or — oh God — what if he _did?_ What if she could tell he'd been thinking about her _that way_ the whole damn time? Because he had — he couldn't help it. He had two eyes and a brain, how was he supposed to _not_ notice that his best friend was gorgeous? That she had boobs and freckles and soft-looking hair? And that he wanted to touch all of it?

***

Jemma waited as the minutes ticked by with a mixture of anticipation and dread. Mid-shower, she was seized with a sudden panic over personal grooming concerns. Was she supposed to… do anything special? Down there? Did Fitz have — _preferences?_

Her heart was beating so quickly she felt like she might be sick. On the up side, knowing how squeamish Fitz was, being sick in front of him probably would solve all her problems. _Oh, Lord._ She should text him and cancel everything while she still had the chance.

***

What Fitz was most worried about, besides _everything_ , was what would happen _after_. If he failed his mission, well, that was easy — things would just go back to the way the were before. There would be some awkwardness, certainly, but they would get over it eventually. And they'd probably be embarrassed enough to suppress all memories of the event, with an unspoken agreement to never mention it again. They would be okay.

If it worked out, though… then he would have to live with first hand knowledge of what Jemma Simmons looked and sounded and felt like when she came, and that was something he _definitely_ wouldn’t be forgetting. _Christ_.

***

"Fitz, hi! Hello. You're here. Come on in. Do you want some tea?" Jemma rambled at lightning speed through a strained smile, clutching the door like a lifeline.

"Err, no, I'm good. Thanks," he said, rubbing at the back of his head. When she gestured for him to sit on her bed, he wordlessly obeyed, carefully watching her through slightly narrowed eyes. "Is Cathy—"

"She's gone, yes," Jemma said, probably too quickly, with a jerky nod. Her eyes darted between his face and the floor as she paced back and forth in the small space between her bed and her desk. "So, I guess we can—"

"Looks like it, yeah," he mumbled, his worry growing. She didn't look like she was looking forward to… fooling around or anything of that nature, but rather like she was steeling herself for something unpleasant.

"How do you—" her eyes fixed on his as one of her hands came to rest on the fly of her jeans. "Do I just take off my pants, or…"

"Jemma," he croaked, eyes widening in disbelief. Leaning forward, he caught her hand and tugged her closer, giving her arm a gentle pull until she came to stand in front of him. "Can you please just sit down?"

She dropped onto the bed beside him, her shoulders slouching dejectedly. "Look, if you've changed your mind, it's _fine_ , I _completely_ understand—"

"I haven't," he insisted with a vehement shake of his head, his gaze locked on his shoes. "Unless… unless _you_ don't want—"

Jemma let out a shaky sigh, her back straightening almost imperceptibly . "I do. Want," she said, her voice catching in her throat. "I very much want, I just—"

"Okay," he said softly, finally meeting her gaze with a comforting smile. "I know this is a little… unconventional—" At her gust of laughter, his grin widened and he enveloped her hand between both of his. "Is it okay if I— if we just kiss? For now?"

"I think—"  The knot in her stomach slowly loosened, finally allowing her to breathe properly again, and she slowly leaned toward him, her eyes trailing down to his mouth. "I think I would really like that," she murmured, a split second before she felt the soft press of his lips on hers. Then again. Then again.

He was keeping it deliberately sweet and chaste, giving her ample time to reconsider, but instead of retreating, she ran her tongue along the line of his lips, urging them apart. Fitz groaned against her mouth at the first taste of her, and his careful restraint rapidly dissolved as they melted into each other. His fingers threaded into her hair, angling her face demandingly as the kiss grew deep and urgent.

"Alright?" he asked between labored breaths, his brogue thicker than ever, and close enough that she could feel the words vibrate on her skin.

Jemma beamed against him, her body tingling with delight. Her hands skimmed up his arms, brushing lightly against his cheeks before burying into his curls."Mmhmm," she hummed in approval, her fingers tightening none too gently in his hair. "Don't stop."


	3. Chapter 3

Fitz was a boobs man. The way his eyes tended to glaze over any time a bit of cleavage entered his line of sight hadn't been lost on her — she liked to tease him about it, sometimes. But on that particular night, any potential playful taunts died in her throat. Jemma wasn't exactly _busty_ — her breasts were small but nicely shaped, if she said so herself — so she found baring her chest to her best friend-slash-noted big boobs enthusiast rather unnerving.

The moment her bra hit the floor, though, an expression of dazed lust appeared on his face, which proved _tremendously_ satisfying, even if it made no sense — he wasn't her boyfriend or anything. It didn't factor into their — their _arrangement_ , whether he liked her breasts or not. _But he does, he definitely likes them,_ she gleefully reminded herself.

The next however many minutes were a blur, as Fitz fondled,  kissed, flicked and suckled her breasts with enough dedication that she wondered whether it was possible for her to come from that alone. She briefly considered that she should feel at least a _little_ weird about having her best friend’s hands and mouth on her body, touching her in a decidedly un _friendly_ manner, but she didn't. It felt too good to be weird. But it wasn't only what he was doing to her, it was… _him_ — every time their eyes met, it sent an electric jolt of pleasure coursing between her legs.

"Fitz," she whimpered, and there it was again — the pang she felt when their eyes met as he glanced up, his mouth wrapped around her nipple. Seeing him like this was shocking, yes, but it was also undeniably _hot_. "I think I—I'm ready for…"

He released her breast and sat up, gaping at her with eyes gone almost completely black. "Yeah, okay," he croaked, his voice deeper than she'd ever heard it, and as she stood up to get rid of her trousers and panties, she heard him curse under his breath.

Averting her eyes, she went to lie down on her bed, her heart beating frantically in her chest and the arousal she'd felt a minute ago now threatened by a surge of nerves and irrational worry. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the path of his fingers skimming down her stomach, making her muscles clench, until they reached the triangle of hair at the apex of her thighs.

"Jemma," he said softly, a touch of worry to his voice, "are you sure you want this?"

"Yes, I do, I'm just… nervous," she admitted in a shaky breath.  She parted her legs further in invitation and his hand dipped down between her thighs, grazing her folds.  

"You're — you're very wet," he rasped as his index and forefingers stroked a slow path up and down her cleft, exploratory at first and then with more intent. "I need you to tell me if you don't like something. Or if you — if you really like something."

"I can do that," she said, hoping she was telling the truth. She was so absurdly intimidated — this felt far more intimate than anything else she'd done before, and she didn't entirely trust herself to follow through on his one request. But she did trust _him_ , more than she'd ever trusted any of her boyfriends, and they were so effortlessly attuned to each other that she suspected if she didn't like something, he would know before she did.

The first touch of his tongue between her legs almost made her cry out. It was different that anything she'd ever felt, softer and wetter than the press of his fingers, and for a few moments, she couldn’t quite decide if she liked it. When his mouth settled on her clit, however, her arousal sprung back to life under the strange, frictionless sensation of his teasing tongue.

She propped her head up with her arm so she could watch her best friend braced between her legs, licking her most sensitive place — surely the most surreal tableau she'd ever seen in her life. As she slowly relaxed, waves of pleasure began rippling from her center through her entire body and she let out a moan. He hummed against her in response and her head fell back down on her pillow in surrender.

***

Fitz didn't notice immediately when her encouraging whimpers turned into mildly pleased sighs, but he was tipped off when he glanced up to see that the look of intense concentration on her face had given way to pensiveness. He tried to coax her attention back with more vigorous titillation, but her focus was gone, and without her mind engaged he knew he'd have a hard time getting her body to respond the way he hoped.

Running his hands along her thighs, he placed a kiss on top of her hip bone and sat up, wiping his mouth with his hand and allowing his eyes to wander over the line of her waist, the smooth curves of her breasts — God, would he ever _not_ be thinking about her boobs after this? — until their eyes met. Her face was tinted pink, but the unfettered lust he'd seen there just minutes ago was gone.

"Fitz, what are you—"

"Make room for me, will you?" he asked, sliding between her body and the edge of the bed.

"Oh. Alright." She looked away, her expression stricken. She was trying to conjure a smile, he could tell, but her bottom lip was trembling, her eyes full of desolation.

"Oh no, we're not done," he assured her. "Just — let me try something, okay?"

When she nodded, he pulled at her knees, steadying her with his other hand until she was straddling his waist. Her hands came to rest against his chest, bunching into his t-shirt as he shifted toward the center of her narrow bed.

"Now, scoot up," he demanded, running his hands lightly up and down her thighs.

"Wha— Fitz!" she gasped, her eyes widening when she understood exactly what he meant. His hands circled around her body to give her ass an encouraging push. "I don't think — I couldn't — oh God, are you sure?"

"Come on. We'll stop if you don't like it," Fitz promised, noting that she looked surprised but not entirely uninterested — far from it.

With another inciting push from him, she did as he asked, placing her knees past his shoulders on each side of his head until she was straddling his face, her glistening core hovering over his mouth. Fitz's fingers dug into her thighs as he took in the sight above him — her fantastic tits swaying as she settled over him, constellations of freckles dotting newly revealed skin, the curtain of her hair tickling one of her nipples. Her lips were parted and her eyes — _God_ , her eyes had gone dark again, pupils blown out with arousal, and he would be damned if this wasn't his ultimate masturbatory fantasy come to life.

When he licked up her slit with the flat of her tongue, anchoring her body with his hands, she let out a low groan and braced herself against the wall in front of her. He smirked and teased her clit again, rubbing the bundle of nerves with methodical rhythm, and within moments, her thighs were trembling beneath his hands.

"Fitz," she moaned, the hoarseness in her voice and the explicitly sexual way she said his name causing all his blood to run south. "Oh God—"

She was watching him, he realized with a thrill. One hand came to rest on his forehead, her fingers woven into his hair, and her eyes were glued to his face working between her legs. She wasn't lost in a fantasy, imagining some faceless stranger pleasuring her — no, she was sitting on _his_ face and _he_ was eating her out and she _liked_ it. She was getting off on it.

 _Christ_. It was the most intensely erotic thing that had ever happened to him and she hadn't even touched him below the shoulder.

 _"Fitz!"_ she almost shouted when he sucked her clit lightly into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue again and again. Her hips were moving in tight, jerky circles and her moans were getting louder, her back arching and her breasts moving in the most incredible way. Her grip on his curls was almost painful as she ground against his mouth, gasping as her entire body tensed, and then — and then she was coming with a ragged moan, clinging to him for dear life. He kept licking her until her body relaxed and the last shiver of pleasure had subsided, stroking her thighs gently — and, not entirely selflessly, committing the picture of a pleasure-stricken Jemma Simmons to memory because he was absolutely going to relive it later, and possibly every day for the rest of his life.

She leaned back to sit at the top of his chest as she caught her breath, her flush spreading all the way down her chest, and smiled down at him with an expression of awe and contentment.

When he'd thought about this exact moment before, he'd assumed he'd feel a major surge of pride from the knowledge that he, Leopold Fitz, was the first human being to bring Jemma Anne Simmons to orgasm, achieving what none of her loser exes had managed; but now… all he could feel was affection and something akin to gratefulness that she had trusted _him_ to get her there.

She was the most fascinating person he'd ever met — so bright he could barely keep up sometimes, too kind for her own good and prettier that anyone should be allowed to. And damn, she was so fucking sexy he couldn't take it. How was he supposed to get anything done now? Did she really expect him to carry on with his life as though he didn't know how she looked and sounded and felt as she came apart?

"It's okay," she said, grinning. "You can say it."

Fitz was startled for a moment, but when he met her amused gaze, he understood immediately what she meant.

"I told you Colin was a useless wanker," he said obligingly with a half-hearted smirk. "Always pinning his own shortcomings on others. Never deserved you, that jerk." He had the vague thought that maybe he should try for a high five again.

Jemma chuckled as she carefully slid off of him, her hand stroking a path up and down his chest as she molded her body into his side. "Do you, uh, do you want me to—" she trailed off, and Fitz's eyes widened dramatically when he followed her gaze down to the bulge at the crotch of his jeans.

"What? No!" he yelped, because he was fairly certain that if she even attempted to reciprocate, he was _finished_. The weight of her gaze alone had him in dangerous territory already.There would be no way to hide, and he would be definitely, definitively ruined for other girls. He might even confess right then and there that he wanted to do it again, to do _everything,_ every day, for reasons he was trying really hard not to put into words. "I mean that's not— you don't have to… do _that_."

"I know I don't _have to,"_ she pouted, "that's not—"

 _"Thank you,"_ he said with forced solemnity, cutting her off before she could continue — he wasn't very good at denying her anything under the best circumstances, and he had a feeling in the present situation, he might have trouble holding his ground. "For offering, that is. I'm, err, I'm good for now."

"Are you sure?" she asked skeptically, glancing at his conspicuous erection which by now felt the very opposite of fine. Her hand, meanwhile, was trailing dangerously low — he caught it in his before she could go any further and tried his best to look reproachful. But there was a gleam in her eye, and her hair were all mussed and she looked — _Goddamnit._ This couldn't be _it_ . He wanted — he _needed_ more.

"Yeah, but, look… if you ever want to — that is, if you…" He pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to think of the least creepy way to word his proposition. "Just-so-you-know-if-you-ever-want-me-to-do-that-again-I'd-be-happy-to-do-it-honestly-I-wouldn't-mind-at-all," he blurted out in a mangled mess of words, and watched her eyebrows jump to meet her hairline. "I mean, I'm single and you're single for now and you — I mean, it looks like we're… compatible."

"When are we not?" she grinned, her eyes softening.

"Right, exactly," he nodded energetically, clearing his throat. "So if you ever want to keep… exploring… that. I'm here."

"You mean like… friends with benefits or something?" she frowned, looking genuinely perplexed.

 _Does that term still apply if one of the friends is maybe feeling a little bit more than friendly towards the other friend, because I'm starting to suspect—_ "I mean, it doesn't have to be — it can be whatever we decide," he said evasively. There were plenty of arrangements of that sort in their year — the grueling Academy schedule made it difficult for anyone to maintain a relationship — but neither he nor Jemma had ever considered it… not with anyone else, anyway.

"I think… perhaps… yes?" she said, her cheeks pink and her smile vibrant. "On one condition, though," she smirked, sitting up to mercilessly stab at his chest with her finger. "Next time, you let me… get even."

 _Next time? Get even?_ Oh, Lord, she was going to be the death of him.


End file.
